o 922034c59b7eef49 (6 page)

Maggie, Dawn, and Sunny are staring at me as if I just arrived on a flying carpet.

“Uh, I guess you patched things up?” Maggie asks.

“You could say that,” I reply.

They bombard me with questions, and I tell them as much as I can before homeroom.

All day long I'm flying. I am missing James and counting the minutes until we see each other.

Before study hall, I open my locker and find this note stuck into the vent.

Why why why WHY WHY did I promise Isabel I'd go to GAEA today??????

Can I back out of it?

Okay, Nbook. Who do I let down? James or Mikey?

1/7

4:15 P.M.

Am on my way to GAEA. James seemed pretty annoyed. But I think he understands.

1/7

11:07 P.M.

The moment I walk into the center, I know I'm in trouble.

I hear a bloodcurdling scream from somewhere inside the building. Ms. Hardwick is

yelling, “Mikey, what is wrong with you?”

I can't see what's happening, but I hear footsteps clatter away down the hallway.

An assistant named Lila smiles at Isabel and me. “I'll take you to the nursery.”

We follow Lila down the hall. A dozen or so kids are in the nursery with a few moms and staff workers. They're all grateful to see us.

I play with the kids, but I can't stop thinking of Mikey and hoping he shows up.

Then I see Max Endor. He's on the floor by the window. His legs and one of his arms have been ripped off, and his costume is shredded. His eyes have been blackened in with markers.

Ms. Hardwick finally comes back. She has a clipboard with some forms I need to fill out.

As I take it, I ask about Mikey.

Ms. Hardwick sighs. “He's having a rough time. His mom's in the hospital. There were some complications.”

“Is she all right?” I ask.

“I think so. We just received news that she's due back here any day now.”

“Isn't Mikey happy about that?”

“He doesn't understand, Amalia. He's frightened. At his age, a parent's absence is difficult to comprehend. One moment he's happy. The next he's impossible to handle.”

“I'd love to see him.”

Ms. Hardwick says she isn't sure he'll let me. He's refusing to see anyone.

I fill out my papers. By the time I'm done, Isabel is pointing at her watch and saying we have to go.

I am really sad about not seeing Mikey, but Isabel assures me we'll come back soon.

Ms. Hardwick is waiting for us in the lobby. She's looking at the wall, with a funny smile on her face.

All I see there is an empty sofa.

And then I notice the four little fingers clutching the side of it.

I peek around the back of the sofa. Mikey is huddled there, hiding.

“Hi Mikey!” I say.

Mikey doesn't answer.

“I'm Amalia. Remember me?”

Mikey shakes his head.

I don't know what to do, so I tousle his hair.

Mikey lets out a scream. Then he lunges at me, fists flying.

“Mikey!” Ms. Hardwick yells.

But Mikey is halfway across the lobby.

He disappears down the hallway, with Ms. Hardwick in pursuit.

I want to chase after them, but Isabel's hand is on my arm. “Come on,” she says. “I think we're making the situation worse.”

Simon is waiting for us out front. He sees how upset I am, and he insists on driving us to Starburst's.

After a day like this, the crowded mall isn't exactly what I have in mind.

But we go. And we talk. Simon and Isabel share a huge sundae, but I have only a glass of soda. My appetite is gone.

Thu 1/8

study hall

Well, Nbook, almost a whole day has passed since my adventure at GAEA. A lot has

happened.

First of all, I'm eating my breakfast this morning when Mami shuffles sleepily into the kitchen and says, “Your boyfriend called last night. Twice.”

Isabel laughs. “The puppy is lovesick.”

I ignore her. But inside I'm feeling great.

Anyway, James shows up promptly in front of the house. As I walk outside to meet him, I sense that my older sister is jealous. Simon Big Tooth Lover Boy does not pick her up every day.

I am all smiles as I slide into James's car. I say good morning and lean over to kiss him on the cheek.

But he's already pulling away from the curb. The tape he's playing is this weird punkish stuff I've never heard before.

“So how was it?” he asks.

“Don't ask,” I say. “Mikey is hostile.”

“Mikey?”

“You know, the little boy I told you about?”

“Uh-huh.” James speeds around a corner. The car's tires screech. “How little?”

“Three, I think. James, why are you driving so fast?”

“Three? Three times what, Amalia—six? Or does he have some special condition? Like a fast-aging gene or something, that makes him old enough to date girls?”

“James, what are you talking about?”

A light is turning from yellow to red. James speeds right through.

“Careful!” I scream.

“And that place you told me about,” James says sarcastically, “that shelter or whatever—

it doesn't happen to have round marble tables and serve ice cream, does it?”

I let these words sink in. He's describing Starburst's. “Wait. Were you at the mall last night?”

A smile creeps across James's face. “No, but you were. With a not-so-little boy, I hear.”

I slump back into the seat. I cannot believe I am hearing this. “James, that happened to be my sister's boyfriend. My sister was there too. It was after we'd been to the center.”

Now James is slowing to a normal speed. “Vinnie didn't tell me about another girl.”

Vinnie. I vaguely remember meeting a friend of James's with that name.

“So Vinnie was at the mall and he recognized me. He spied on me.”

“I'm going to kill him,” James says.

“Not if I get him first.”

I am angry. I don't say another word as James pulls into the parking lot.

He gets out of the car and starts walking toward the school. I run to catch up.

I tell him I really want to talk to him. I say we've wasted the entire ride to school with a stupid argument. I wish the eleventh-graders' lunch wasn't one period after the eighth-graders', but maybe we can meet in between.

James shakes his head. He says he's going out for lunch. With some friends. Then he suggests, “You could come with us.”

I laugh. “Right. And cut math?”

James shrugs. “I cut all the time. Nothing ever happens.”

I say no, of course. But it's tempting.

Ducky's hanging out by the eighth-grade lockers, talking to Maggie Sunny, and Dawn.

I'm thinking about James. About our conversation. Somehow the ride to school has left a bad taste in my mouth, and I can't figure out why.

As I'm taking my books out of my locker, Maggie is singing a new lyric she wrote for Vanish.

It's absolutely beautiful. Something about a sad, lonely girl who spends her life only doing what everyone else wants her to do. As I'm listening, my heart is breaking.

Maggie's songs are so personal. She's struggling, Nbook. She's really learning to break away from her Daddy's-little-good-girl image.

I wish her parents were more like Mami and Papi, who don't put too much pressure on us.

Maggie may have all that money, but what's the point if she's not allowed to be herself, right?

Anyway, I'm lost in my own world when I hear Ducky mention something about tonight's rehearsal.

“Are you going, Ducky?” I ask.

“We all are,” Ducky replies. “Sunny, Dawn, and me. We'll be...groupies!”

He shouts the word “groupies” in this high-pitched voice that makes us all laugh.

At that moment, James walks around the corner. He's giving Ducky a wary look.

Ducky sees it and flinches.

“Yo,” James calls out, gesturing to me with his head.

As I walk toward James, I hear Ducky mutter, “I should try that sometime. So much more efficient than 'Would you come here, please?'”

“What was that?” James snaps.

“Nothing,” Ducky replies.

James starts walking toward Ducky, but I take his arm. “What's up, James?” I ask.

“You forgot your makeup,” James says.

I remind him I don't wear makeup. But for some reason he's still glaring at Ducky, so I wave in James's face. Jokingly. To get his attention.

Finally James turns to me and says, “Fiesta Grill.”

“Huh?” I reply.

“Meet me there. My lunch period.”

I have no time to answer because the homeroom bell sounds. We all scatter.

I am a total space cadet in class, Nbook. I can't concentrate. I'm worrying about

everything. Whether it's really okay to cut math. Why James is so moody. What's happening with Mikey. My school notebooks are filling up with doodles instead of classwork.

On top of that, I can't get Maggie's lyric out of my mind. I think of the sad girl in the song, the girl based on Maggie.

But it's not Maggie I'm picturing. I'm seeing someone else. Another girl who does things for others. Who thinks of herself second or third or fourth, but never first.

Someone with the initials A.V.

And I'm realizing why I feel so strange about my ride to school with James.

The fact is, he'd accused me of lying. Just like that. He heard a rumor from someone and assumed I was guilty.

I tell myself he's human. He's hotheaded. And no one is immune from jealousy.

I admit, I can be that way too. Believe me, Nbook, I have apologized my way out of plenty of situations.

The thing is, if James had apologized, I'd probably have forgiven him on the spot. But he hadn't. He hadn't said a word about it.

You weren't around when I was a little girl, Nbook. But whenever Isabel or I hurt

someone's feelings, Mami always used to say, “The injuries that you can't see are the most painful.”

Well, I believe that. And I think James needs to learn it too. I have to talk to him.

You know what, Nbook? I really don't need to go to math.

1/8

soc. stud.

Here I am, after all that.

And he's not here yet.

1/8

4:38 P.M.

First I should tell you, Nbook, that he showed up.

I'm standing by the candy machines, trying to look invisible, and I feel this sharp tap on the shoulder.

I practically scream.

James is laughing. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Waiting for you,” I say.

“I mean, here at the machines. Why didn't you sit, save us a booth?”

There's so much I want to say to him, but people are all around us, so I just smile and follow him to a table.

He opens a menu. “The cheeseburgers are the best.”

“Uh, James? Listen, I need to tell you something--”

“It's okay if you have no money. My treat.”

“It's not that. It's--”

“Yo! Bruce! Patti! Over here!”

I turn. Bruce and Patti have just entered the grill, and they're headed our way with big smiles.

“It's what?”James asks me, distractedly.

“Nothing,” I say.

Our friends sit down. Everyone orders chili dogs and cheeseburgers. They're all talking and laughing. But I'm not hungry. I hardly say a word.